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<title>The not quite absent Heart (Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt) by Leandra</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082510">The not quite absent Heart (Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leandra/pseuds/Leandra'>Leandra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Merlin (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Heartbreak, Jealous Merlin (Merlin), M/M, Merlin Emrys has anger management issues, Merlin POV, Merlin is So Done (Merlin), Merlin is going to fuck things up, Step-siblings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:01:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,321</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29082510</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leandra/pseuds/Leandra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin just wants to go to band-practice, but while getting a glass of water outside the practice room, he overhears Mordred boast about his new boyfriend to their bandmates... </p><p>*-*<br/>Companion piece to <i>Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt</i>, from Merlin's POV, written for The Melee and the prompt "Shatter".</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>The Melee Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The not quite absent Heart (Nobody moves, nobody gets hurt)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to my darling wife, who betaed this and helped me rearrange this snapshot what felt like a hundred times :-) </p><p>In here are spoilers for the main story, so if you want to avoid them, start reading the orginal fic first!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Merlin is late for band practice, really late, when he steps into the rehearsal studio. The band members of <i>i am magic</i> book their favourite rehearsal room every Monday and Wednesday and sometimes Friday for 8 quid an hour from 5 p.m to 8 p.m., raising the money between them -  and every minute counts. Usually, Merlin would be pissed if somebody was late and they had to wait on them, but right now he’s tired and frustrated and being considerate of his bandmates isn’t very high up on his list of priorities.</p><p>It’s December, just a couple of days before Christmas, and it’s the busiest time of year at Gaius’ small chemist shop. This year, Gaius even hired an extra employee during the busy season, but still Merlin has been helping out more than he usually does - restocking goods, measuring out herbal teas, putting labels on bags and jars and selling all kinds of health care and skin care products, some of which Gaius and his assistant Gunther mix up in the back. </p><p>Merlin should get his rehearsal keyboard out of the storage locker by the wardrobes and start on setting it up, but he’s exhausted and thirsty, and all he wants is a fresh glass of water and a couple of minutes to himself. The studio hosts a small kitchenette and there’s free tea, coffee and water and usually a bowl of apples. Merlin walks over towards the kitchenette counter, past the door to the rehearsal room and opens the overhead cupboard to get out a glass.</p><p>“... totally gorgeous. I swear, the hottest guy I’ve ever dated. I can barely help myself around him. We were at the cinema and I don’t remember anything about the film because we snogged in the back for the duration of it,” Mordred’s voice filters through the open door and Merlin scrunches up his nose in distaste, because how anyone could date Mordred, that aggravating, obnoxious idiot without a funny bone in his body, is beyond him. </p><p>He fills the glass of water slowly, half-listening for Gwaine’s answer. </p><p>“Nice,” Gwaine’s voice rumbles in an appreciative tone. “He’s hot, no doubt about it.”</p><p>“He’s also funny and intelligent,” Mordred adds, like he’s eager to prove that his new boyfriend is more than just a nice piece of arse. “Arthur’s also an artist, a really good one. You should see the things he draws - he’s really talented.” </p><p>Water runs over the rim of Merlin’s glass and his fingers, and it takes him another moment to shut the faucet off, and he blinks, his scowl deepening. Arthur, huh? An artist. Mordred is dating an Arthur, who is - </p><p>“So, I guess congrats on snatching that snack, but the real question is: How is he in the sack? I mean, did you do … the do?” Gwaine asks with a leer in his voice. </p><p>“Gwaine,” Gwen hisses, “you’re awful,” and Gwaine moans in answer, like she slapped him.</p><p>Something clenches in Merlin’s stomach, twisting harshly at his insides and constricting his breath. The glass in his hands is shaking slightly, water spilling over the rim, his fingers tight-knuckled around it.</p><p>“Of course, that’s what you want to know!” Mordred complains, but then laughs, a short, throaty laugh that sends panic along Merlin’s nerves. “We’re working towards it, I’d say,” he adds conspiratorially, and Gwaine coos. </p><p>“Oh man, I can’t believe you’re bonking Merlin’s brother, man, that’s sick.” </p><p>The water glass shatters in Merlin’s hand, water and glass shards spilling over his fingers and into the sink. </p><p>“Gwaine!” Gwen barks sharply from the other room. “You should tell him,” she says more softly, to Mordred. “It’s not nice dating Arthur behind his back.” </p><p>“Why should he care?” Mordred asks. “He thinks Arthur’s a prat.” </p><p>“They’re best friends,” Will corrects him. “He thinks the world of Arthur. They’re besties. BFFs. BAE. Like two sides of a coin or some shit.”</p><p>In the kitchen area, Merlin is trembling, shaking glass splinters from his fingers. Miraculously, he didn’t cut himself. His stomach is in knots and his chest feels like it’s caving in, while his mind replays what he has overheard. </p><p>“I thought <i>you</i> were Merlin’s best friend?” Freya speaks up, “Besides, Arthur should tell him himself, shouldn’t he?” </p><p>Will replies, but Merlin isn’t listening anymore over the rushing of blood in his ears, suddenly feeling numb - like the feeling one gets just after you’ve hurt yourself terribly but the pain hasn’t set in yet. He stumbles towards the coat rack and grabs his coat, shrugging it on hastily. He has to get out of here. Immediately, before he has a breakdown in the entrance hall of the studio and his friends come to investigate why he’s screaming and throwing a fit. With shaking fingers, he rifles through Will’s parka, finding the pack of cigarettes Will usually keeps there, together with a lighter. He takes out one and pilfers a lighter as well - Will has two in his pockets - before turning towards the door. </p><p>For a moment he’s wracked with guilt for running off, but he can’t possibly face his bandmates right now, not after hearing about Mordred and Arthur. He can’t see the glee on Mordred’s face and the pity in Gwen’s expression and not feel like a first class idiot, because he didn’t know his step-brother - who he had been secretly sleeping with until only a couple of weeks ago - is seeing his bandmate.</p><p>When he steps outside onto the street the cold hits him like a slap in the face and the numbness that had taken hold of him earlier releases into anguish. It should be okay that Arthur is moving on. Merlin should be happy. It had to happen eventually, and it’s a good thing. Closure, that’s what Merlin needs. But closure isn’t Arthur dating his bandmate, whose tedious, aggravating presence Merlin has to endure three times a week.  </p><p>With trembling hands he lights the cigarette, cupping his hand around it so the wind doesn’t extinguish the flame of the lighter. He exhales shakily, a white cloud of smoke and breath, the smoke in his lungs making him immediately light-headed. Merlin rarely smokes, he fortunately never picked up the habit like Will, but sometimes he likes the feeling of being slightly dizzy that comes from not being used to smoking, the calm that comes with it, and right now, he needs all the calm he can get with his emotions churning in his body, running wild.</p><p>He walks up the street blindly, unseeing past the fog in his head. There’s no space in his brain to think about direction, but his feet are leading him home nonetheless. </p><p>Mordred and Arthur. Mordred and Arthur. Mordred… and Arthur. </p><p>For a blissful while, it doesn’t quite connect in his head, but then the images hit, of Mordred making out with Arthur in the back row and holding his hand as they walk out of the cinema. Merlin’s stomach lurches. He stops and hunches over, free hand reaching out to steady himself by reaching for a lamp post, afraid he’s going to throw up the greasy chips he’s had after leaving work. </p><p>It takes him a moment to collect himself, shaking off the images of Mordred and Arthur, together. Slowly, Merlin straightens from his hunched over position, takes a last drag from his cigarette before tossing it away and stumbling on. It’s a testament to busy London that nobody stopped to ask if he was okay, all moaning and clutching the lamp post like a lifeline - people will just walk past you while you’re dying on the curb.</p><p>Merlin has no idea what he’s going to do right now, but he finds himself at the tube station, waiting for the Victoria line to Brixton on his way home, carefully trying to not fall apart. He longs to be home in his own room, where he can curl up in his bed and try to forget that Mordred is dating Arthur. He steps onto the train with clenched teeth and burning eyes, overtly aware of the presence of the other passengers, most of them commuting home from work. They wouldn’t appreciate it if he screamed out his hurt and frustration, so he bites his lip and clenches his jaw, gripping the handrail hard. Pile is still tickling at the back of his throat and his vision is blurry. He sniffs, wiping at his burning eyes with shaky fingers. He’s not going to cry. That’s ridiculous.</p><p>The last couple of weeks had been awful. </p><p>Arthur had been barely able to look at him for days after Merlin fled the bedroom following Arthur’s earnest confession where he broke the one rule they both had agreed to: This was just some casual fun and they weren’t in love, because they are step-brothers now and step-brothers aren’t dating. Arthur had been so angry before, angry and forceful, shoving Merlin towards the bed and all but pounding him into the mattress, just to spill out those damned words afterwards. <i>I’m falling in love with you</i>.</p><p>There had been a moment at their family trip to the ice rink two weeks ago when Merlin had been convinced Arthur would seek him out afterwards, and he’d felt heavily - and irrationally - disappointed when Arthur never did. Whatever had been there before was still there, he <i>knew</i> it, he could <i>feel</i> it. Arthur was still looking at him like he had done ever since they met, his gaze too often darting nervously over Merlin’s face like he didn’t know where to settle his eyes.</p><p>Merlin may tell Arthur there aren’t any feelings involved on his part, but it’s mostly a defense mechanism. There’s no way he can have a relationship with his step-brother. </p><p>So it’s better to keep lying, even to himself.</p><p>He ran into this complete disaster with both eyes wide open. He knew, he <i>knew<i> from the get go he should have just stayed away, should have continued to go out with other blokes and let his attraction to Arthur pass with time. Instead he had allowed his desire to get away with him, hadn’t listened to the voice of reason in his own head as well as Arthur’s protests. He had thought he could handle it, because he hadn't allowed himself to fall in love in the past, he could do it again. He had been arrogant and stupid and too horrible tempted.</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>And Arthur had just been so tempting, all golden-haired and fair-skinned and blue eyes and gorgeous laughter, with his artist’s sensibility and borderline-cookoo fitness obsession. Add to that the fact he apparently didn’t know what he did to Merlin by just existing in the same space and how he reacted to Merlin’s filthy taunts with overwhelmed, needy passion and Merlin didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He thinks of how Arthur looks in the morning, all dishevelled and soft-eyed and mildly befuddled with sleep. Of his delighted laughter, when Merlin makes a silly joke. Of his fingers, absentmindedly running through Merlin’s hair while Merlin reads to him. He thinks of Arthur, lying beneath him, his eyes bright and his mouth parted as he moans, staring up at Merlin with a wondrous, overwhelmed expression as they move together. He thinks of the secret places on Arthur’s body that no one else has seen or touched, that belonged to Merlin for the last couple of months. They belong to Mordred now. Everything about Arthur belongs to Mordred now.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Shit,” Merlin curses and shuts his eyes to make the images go away: Of Mordred, in his place, being the cause of Arthur’s brilliant smile. Arthur, who said to Merlin only a few weeks ago: “I’m falling in love with you,” so matter of factly. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Merlin is still panicking when he thinks about that moment, but another emotion surfaces, lightning quick like a flash: How dare Arthur fall in love with him! How dare he tell Merlin he loves him and then turn around and date someone else? How dare Arthur not tell him, and make Merlin find out on his own? </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Anger rises in him, a sharp companion to the bitter hurt. He embraces it, allows it to take over and twist his self-pity into irritation.  </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Arthur should have told him. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>With every tube stop the rage grows fiercer and his stride is angry when he changes from the Victoria to the Circle line at Victoria Station. Merlin allows the anger to take over, because it feels marginally better being furious than crying on the tube. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>His thoughts run in circles, but they return to this: </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Now Mordred is the one who can have Arthur in a way Merlin can never have. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Yes, Merlin had Arthur’s body, his passion, his dirty moans and wicked ideas, had his laughter and his witty intelligence and maybe his friendship, but Mordred gets to hold his hand while they walk and gets to kiss him in public and tell the world that Arthur chooses to be with him.</i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>Whenever he thinks he marginally calmed down, he replays Mordred’s words: <i>We’re working towards it.</i> The anger flares up again, and it intensifies with every step he’s closer to home. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>When he finally fumbles open the front door with his key and steps into the entrance hall, he’s so keyed up, he’s practically vibrating, his breath coming in short gasps. He catches a glimpse of himself in the full-length mirror in the hall, looking mad, his face flushed, eyes livid, a deep scowl pressing his brows together. In the kitchen, Uther and Hunith are talking in quiet tones, an adult conversation. From upstairs comes the sound of Arthur playing The Last of Us on the PS4, and Merlin looks up the narrow flight of wooden stairs, his anger crawling under his skin like something physical. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>He feels like he’s about to explode as he makes his way upstairs, taking two steps at a time. </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i> ...</i>
  </i>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you enjoyed this: </p><p>Start reading <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030971">Nobody Moves, Nobody gets hurt</a></p><p>or if you took a detour from the original fic, go back to read <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26030971/chapters/63377020">Chapter 12 of Nobody Moves, Nobody gets hurt</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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